Bollywood: Diary Of Sayed Jaffrey

4 minutes

Ladies and gentlemen, when it comes to making choices in life, we all rely on instincts mostly. The outcome might match our expectations or may falter and wither. Who we live with and whom we love is at the top of the list of making the right choice. Now, if this RIGHT CHOICE is INDIVIDUALISTIC at frist, but when we meet that someone special, we gradually become more selfless and form a cohesive emotional bond. Or at least this is how it should be.


Here is a true story of an elegant Bollywood personality of yesteryears and his love life in brief. Without further ado…


I was 19 when I was married to Mehrunima who was 17. As I grew up, I was very fascinated by the British culture in colonial India. I learnt to speak English fluently, wear suits with grace, and developed impeccable etiquettes. But Mehrunima grew up to be my complete opposite – homely, a typical housewife. All my advices and admonishments couldn’t change her basic personality – an obedient wife, a doting mother and a good homemaker. But she was not what I wanted.


More I tried to change her, more we drifted apart. Gradually she metamorphosed from a cheerful affectionate young girl into a quiet insecure woman. Meanwhile I started getting attracted to a co-actor of mine who was all what I wanted in my wife. After 10 years of marriage, l divorced Mehrunima, left my home and married my co- actor. I had ensured financial security of Mehrunima and my kids . For about 6-7 months everything went well.


Then I started realising, my new wife was not caring and affectionate. She was only concerned about her beauty, her ambitions, her wants and desires. Sometimes I missed Mehrunima’s caring touch and concern for my welfare.


Life moved on. I and my new wife were 2 persons living in a house, not one soul living in a home. I never went back to find out what happened to Mehrunima and my kids.


After about 6 to 7 years of my second marriage, I came across an article on a Madhur Jaffrey, an upcoming famous chef who had recently launched a book of her own recipes. The moment I looked at the picture of the smart elegant lady, I was stunned. It was Mehrunima. But how could it be ??? She had remarried and changed her maiden name too.


I was shooting abroad at that time. She lived in US now. I caught the next flight to US. I inquired about her where abouts and went to meet her. She refused to see me. My daughter who was 14, and son who was 12, told her they wanted to talk to me one last time. Her new husband was by her side. He was also my children’s legal father now.


To this date, I cannot forget what my children told me. They told me that their new father knows the meaning of true love. He accepted Mehrunima as she was and never tried to change her into what he himself was, because he loves her more than he loves himself. He let her evolve at her own pace and never tried to force his wishes on her. He accepted and enjoyed her person as it was.


And she has bloomed into a confident loving affectionate self reliant lady today under her second husband’s selfless love and acceptance. Where as his selfishness, demands and unacceptance of her persona had crushed her and then in his selfishness he had discarded her. He Never Loved Her, He Had Always Loved Himself. And Those Who Love Themselves, Cannot Love Others.


NOTE of CREDIT: This story was found on Facebook


Shaifali Verma

She is Masters in Counseling Psychology and also holds a Diploma in Life skills and Reproductive Health from Christ University.She is experienced in dealing with adolescent , relationship issues, transgenders and psychological trauma in relation to cancer and health issues.Shaifali believes in teamwork, effective communication and spreading & sharing smiles.There's one philosophy that she lives by - There's positivity in each and everyone of us, which when tapped and directed correctly, brings out the best in us.Through YourDOST she wishes to spread smiles by letting people share their burden, bring out their positive side and make them feel empowered.

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